


Runaway Train

by roseymama



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 17:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5012926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseymama/pseuds/roseymama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Victory Tour didn't end in 12? What if it ended with a bang? What if Panem had rebels that were more organized than President Snow could guess? What if the entire District 12 team experienced an old fashioned hijacking on the train?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runaway Train

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompts in Panem Round 8 Day 2. I may consider continuing, but I'd need a beta and motivation. The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins

“When do you think we’ll get home?” Peeta asks as we enter the dining car in search of an afternoon snack.

Soon, I hope. I look out the window and try to match what I’m seeing with my impressions of the districts we’ve seen on the tour. It’s nearly useless since traveling is such a blur in my memory. Nevertheless I express my hopes, “We should be there soon, I think.”

The train is slowing for yet another fuel stop. I don’t know how these trains work, but it seems like we have to stop far too frequently. Effie must have fits every time a stop takes more than the precisely allotted time. After the mechanical failure and repair on our way to District 11, I have heard her attempts to instill a “keener sense of timeliness" in the various transportation workers several times. I’m positive Effie must have spoken to someone about it while we were in the Capitol. She would have had ample opportunity sometime between Peeta’s proposal and ushering us back onto the train after the party at the President’s mansion.

The train has barely shuddered to a stop before we hear a loud squealing whistle followed by  thunderous boom. The plate in Peeta’s hand flies across the room as the dining car rocks side to side several times. The sudden overwhelming need to be near Peeta has propelled me across the room, but the shaking causes me to crash into him as we tumble to the floor.

I quickly run my hands across Peeta’s arms and chest looking for blood, cuts, or anything amiss. I feel his arm brush down my back, surely checking my body for wounds. Satisfied with each other’s health we help one another stand and survey the room. Food is scattered everywhere. A patch of the carpet is singed from a burner that must have been keeping something warm. Peeta hands me a steak knife and a scoops up a large jagged edge of a dish. We both look at the door unsure of whether we should stay where we are, or find the others.

The decision is made for us when a hulking man holding a massive curved blade looms in the doorway and bellows down the hall, “I’ve found them! Let’s get moving before those Peacekeepers realize they’re not going to catch up.”

I inch closer to Peeta as I tuck the knife into my pants. I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m betting a concealed knife is going to be far more useful to us now. I quickly scan the floor for other objects we might use as weapons when the ground surges beneath us and the train quickly hurtles forward again.

The stranger visibly flinches at the train’s motion. “Whoa. This is … this thing always move this fast?”

I’m taken aback when this strange armed man speaks. He sounds so young. He can’t possibly be much older than me. At first, I think he looks strikingly similar to Thresh with his muscular frame and looming presence. And something about him looks familiar, but I can’t place where I may have seen him before. Where did he come from? Why is he here? What’s going on?

I hear Peeta gulp before opening his mouth. He sounds more confident than I feel as he asks, “Who are you? Where are you taking this train?”

The man, or maybe boy, raises his free hand in an odd sort of bastardized version of the three fingered salute I witnessed in District 11. “I’m in the service of the Mockingjays. Who I am doesn’t matter. You two better come with me and join the others.”

I don’t have time to think about his odd statement. My attention is drawn to the window and I see that the train is speeding away from the fuel station at a different angle than we approached. Haymitch mentioned several junction spots where supply train tracks crossed our path towards the Capitol. This stop must have been at one of them. There is a brief commotion in the distance before I hear another high pitched whistle and see a blast along the tracks. Peacekeepers who were running towards the area are scattered away like debris.

Peeta adjusts his shard of dinnerware as he grabs my hand. We slowly make our way towards the stranger together. I can tell Peeta’s pretending to favor his good leg and I’m wondering if I should also feign an injury. Following his cue, I shake my head and rub my ear - the one I lost hearing in during my Games; the one they fixed in the Capitol.

This strange man must be very trusting. Or perhaps just stupid. He cocks his head in the direction he wants us to go, but makes no mention of the sharp object in Peeta’s other hand. Even if his blade is as effective as it is menacing, he shouldn't underestimate any perceived weapon in the hands of a Victor. And two Victors able to defend each other? He must really be an idiot.

Peeta and I cautiously follow the stranger. He leads us to the television room where we are reunited with Haymitch, Effie, Cinna, and Portia. Effie’s lost her wig and seems to be completely out of sorts, but Portia has some blood on her sleeve and appears to be wounded. Cinna is attempting to enlist Effie’s help in Portia’s care, while Haymitch stands about three feet from the group with his back towards the wall. I would almost think he was too drunk to function or perhaps in shock if I didn’t notice the way his eyes keep sweeping the room. He’s standing watch. Guess that means we’ll need to be on guard too.

We’re herded into one corner of the room. Fortunately there is a couch and several cushions to sit on. Effie has calmed down a bit since we have joined the group, but there is still an anxious buzz filling the room. Peeta maneuvers us to the couch nearest Haymitch. I can see Portia’s arm wound is really quite minor, and some of the “blood” on her clothing looks a lot like the dark red wine she favors with meals.

My mouth is open to ask Haymitch if he knows what’s going on when a set of three additional strangers enter the room. One is almost the exact same height and build as the boy who led us to this car. He looks older though, maybe 30. Haymitch relaxes a fraction of an inch at the look of relief one of the newcomers shares with one of the others. I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.

The oldest member of the group, a man with a large scar down his face trades a small box for the curved blade our escort was holding. “Radio ahead and tell them we’ve secured the baby birds. I’d like to have a little chat with our guests.” The dismissal in his tone is obvious. If this man has such authority in the group maybe he can tell us what on earth in happening.

Once the others have left the room, Haymitch squares himself and addresses the assumed ringleader, “Seeder know you got her boy threatening folks with a sickle?”

“Buck believes in the Mockingjay’s cause and is plenty old enough to know who’s worth helping. I’m wondering about you though, Haymitch. Protecting these Capitol idiots and sounding like a nervous Nellie over a few dead Peacekeepers.” As he’s speaking, the man gestures with the weapon in his hand. His eyes scream murder and I’ve never been one to trust that look. The overt disrespect and hostility rolling off him in waves has my fingers involuntarily reaching for my knife.

Peeta clenching my hand makes me pause. It wouldn’t do to start a fight right now with Effie here. Her screaming would certainly bring the others back to join the fray. And even with three Victors and Cinna, that sickle will do a lot of damage.

Haymitch eyes the man and takes a step forward, placing himself in the front of the group. “Well, Kern, you’d be surprised how many allies we have all over Panem -  Capitol included.”

The man, who must be Kern, visibly starts. His surprise has me jittery again, but Haymitch’s obvious upper hand is almost a physical presence in the room. Kern glances again towards Cinna, Portia, and Effie.

“How’s about us grown folk have our little chat away from the kiddies and Caps? I reckon you an’ I have a fair bit to talk about.”

Haymitch responds with a bitter laugh. “You reckon, huh? Why don’t we just discuss things right here, right now. Maybe start with that rumor I heard about 11 attacking Peacekeepers and sending fighting men to 12.”

Attacks on Peacekeepers? Was there more violence after Peeta and I left the District? I knew the atmosphere was tense, but were the citizens of 11 organized enough to do something so close to their Victory Tour visit? If they are sending fighters to 12, do they have a plan? Or are they just a band of blood and terror reaching across District lines in a bid to draw the wrath of Snow on someone else’s home? Most people in 12 won’t be able to put up a much of a fight if attacked. The whole district is vulnerable. Prim is vulnerable.

“If you want to talk about that, then I’m not your man. We can go up front and you can hear from the others.” Kern, once again, looks around the room suspiciously. “Hey Buck! Get back in here!”

Buck returns promptly. He must have been close at hand. Kern hands him the sickle again and gesture towards our Capitol contingent. “Keep an eye on them. Don’t trust ‘em. You two!” He points to Peeta and me. “Come and sit over here on the floor. Wouldn't want those Caps to rub off on ya.”

Peeta grabs my hand and leads me towards the side of the train car Kern pointed to. I keep my arms around him as we slide to the floor.

Haymitch and Kern head towards the front of the train. I’m not sure if I’m relieved that Buck is our guard again, or worried about being separated. Whoever these people are, they obviously don’t trust us. And I certainly do not trust them.

I’m cataloging everything I now know when Peeta draws me close until I’m practically in his lap. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I was in the Hunger Games. I won with Peeta Mellark. We’re on our Victory Tour train. We’ve left the Capitol, but we’re no longer on the tracks that lead to 12. There are strange armed men from 11 here. Haymitch knows about these people. They don’t trust us and we don't trust them. District 12 is in danger.

Peeta whispers into my hair, “Do you think we’ll get back home?”

Home? What was it like to be home? My heart aches at the thought. It feels like an eternity ago. A hellish tour of the country. Strained efforts, including an engagement, to keep the districts from rebelling. Learning it was too little, too late. I look out the window and try to conjure memories of what District 12 looked like as the train pulled away.

“I hope so, Peeta. I hope home’s still there.”

**Author's Note:**

> Roseymama on tumblr. Come chat!


End file.
